The Bitter and the Sweet
by rynogeny
Summary: AU, Eomer/OC. Sequel in the Heart of the Horselord series. Eomer is not coping well with the thought of Eowyn's departure to Gondor.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: First, my apologies that it's taken so long for this sequel so many have kindly asked for! It took me a long time to come up with an idea that would tie together the bits and pieces I wanted to address, and then when I finally started working on it, (last January, believe it or not) life took a turn for the strange -- job loss, moving to a different state, caring for a family member during the last few weeks of her life, my own acute bronchitis (I'd not been that sick in over 20 years!) -- and the result was my writing taking a very long hiatus. Although I'm still looking for a job, things are much more settled now, allowing me to write in several different fandoms plus my novel.

Also, the main idea for this came from two people: my friend Airekel and someone else who left me a review last December-January. I keep all the reviews, and looked for it this morning wanting to acknowledge the person, and can't find it. If the story idea looks familiar, please let me know. It was a great idea, and I'm sorry it took me so long to actually get it written.

As with all stories I post here, this one is completely written. I'm also going to be posting a story in a different fandom, and rather than overwhelm the system (I want to get everything I've got ready posted before Nov. 1st so I can concentrate on NaNoWriMo) I'm uploading the first two parts of this today, and will post the rest (there are five chapters total) tomorrow.

* * *

Eomer jerked awake, then went completely still. It took only moments for his mind to register that he was in bed, in Meduseld, with Lisswyn curled against him. He knew from painful experience it would take longer for his heart to catch up, and he bit back an oath.

Another nightmare.

Lisswyn made a noise and shifted closer to him. Glad that she still slept, he turned toward her, and buried his face in her hair. As the months of their marriage passed, she was sleeping more soundly, no longer as prone to the dreams that had troubled her in the beginning: nightmares of Hunlaf, or the orcs in the caves. Maegwen's death. Maybe it was time passing, maybe she was simply coming to feel safe.

None of which explained why he was now the one being plagued by nightmares.

Or memories, rather.

He pulled away from Lisswyn and shook his head in another attempt to dispel the dream before pulling the covers around her and slipping out of the bed. He was unlikely to sleep again, indeed, he didn't want to. Not if those images were going to taunt him. He dressed quietly in the near dark, and then stirred the fire so that Lisswyn wouldn't awaken to a chamber that could be chilly even in the spring.

Before leaving, he moved first to the door to Brynwyn's room, and listened for a moment before quietly opening it and peering inside. In the light of her fire, he could see her curled up, her young cat at her feet. Snowball raised her head and looked at him, then licked a paw before rolling over the other direction. Creeping across the room, Eomer stirred her fire as well, then turned, exited into the main hall. The only sound was that of the dooryards speaking softly to one another, and they would be unsurprised to find their king prowling around in the middle of the night.

All seemed as it should be, and yet…unable to stop himself, he crossed the hall and stopped outside Eowyn's door. His sister wouldn't thank him for waking her, and really he had no plans to do so. He just needed to know she was well. Safe. Alive. Resting his head against her door for a moment, he heard nothing, and knew he would have to be satisfied with that. He sighed quietly, then turned, went back to his study. He may as well get some work done while he waited for the rest of Meduseld to awaken.

* * *

"Lisswyn, you must do something." Eowyn paced around the queen's sitting room.

"These should be some of the happiest days of my life, should they not, as I anticipate my wedding? And instead, it's like he's preparing for a funeral – but won't tell me why. He's driving me mad."

Eowyn wasn't alone in that, nor, Lisswyn suspected, was she alone in believing the queen should be able to solve the problem. But she didn't know how, and that failure hurt.

"I've tried. He doesn't – quite – growl at me the way he is everyone else, but he doesn't talk to me, either. He just tells me to leave him be, then goes off to his study, or the stables."

"Does he not understand how unfair he's being?" Annoyance moved into Eowyn's tone.

No, Eomer was seeing only his own pain and feelings of loss, Lisswyn thought. The entire household was to leave for Gondor– and Eowyn's wedding to Faramir – in a matter of days, and the closer that date of departure came, the blacker the King's mood.

"I just tried to start an argument with him. I thought if I could get him to shout at me, we could talk about it. Instead, he just shook his head and then turned and walked away."

"Well, deliberately provoking him isn't a method I'd tried yet," Lisswyn said ruefully.

"Don't bother. It didn't succeed. I know he's proud of his increased control over his temper, but I can't help but feel we'd all be better off for a good shouting match."

"We leave for Gondor in three days. Maybe once we're on the road, his mood will improve. You know how he loves being out of Meduseld."

"I hope so. I'm not sure I'm ever going to be able to forgive him for spoiling my last few days in Edoras."

There were tears hovering now, and Lisswyn rubbed her eyes tiredly. Eowyn was as entitled to nervous tears as much as the next woman at the thought of her wedding – perhaps even more so, given that wedding was in another kingdom, with all the attendant concerns about differences in traditions and protocol – but that didn't mean Lisswyn knew how to comfort her. Particularly since her nuptial nerves were being made so much worse by Eomer's mood. "Don't say that, Eowyn, please. You'll be back in Meduseld for visits, you know that. And whatever is bothering him won't last forever."

"I know. I'm just so angry with him." She stalked around the room again, frustration apparent in her steps. "Why can't he just be happy for me? He likes Faramir. I know he does. He calls him his brother."

"Of course he likes him. And he is happy for you. He's just…he's losing you, Eowyn."

Eowyn gave her a disbelieving look. "I'm losing him, as well – does he not know how much I'll miss him? But I'm not stomping around, making everyone around me miserable. He at least will still be here, where everything is familiar!"

Knowing Eowyn had a point, Lisswyn stared at her helplessly. "Perhaps it's something else distressing him. I do know he's not sleeping well – he comes to bed after long after I do, and is awake far earlier."

But it wasn't, and she thought they both knew it.

* * *

The morning of their departure, Eomer stepped through the great doors of Meduseld onto the porch, and felt immediately the crushing weight of dozens of eyes anxiously watching him. He glanced around, saw not only their rather large traveling party gathered at the base of the steps, but many of the people of Edoras who'd come to see them off, as well. Understanding it was expected of him, he tried to smile, and knew it to be closer to a grimace.

His gaze settled on Eowyn. She was already mounted, and was laughing at something Elfhelm was saying to her. Why could the image he carried of her in his heart not be this one, of her laughter and joy, rather than that other one? The darker one that stalked his dreams?

She turned to look up at him, and the smile faltered. Determined to try harder not to spoil this for her, he made another attempt to smile, and then said, "People of Edoras, behold the White Lady of the Riddermark, soon to be the Princess of Ithilien!"

The people cheered, and Eowyn relaxed. He started to turn, and then noticed Lisswyn. She wasn't mounted yet, but was standing at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on Dancer. She was smiling a little, her eyes gleaming with what he thought might be pride. In him? Merely for making such a small attempt to please Eowyn? Shame pricked at him, and then deepened when he took a closer look at her. Exhaustion marked her pale features, with dark circles beneath her eyes. Had he caused that?

He'd judged leaving their bed when he was unable to sleep to be a better choice than inflicting his tossing and turning on her, but perhaps he'd erred in that. He'd make sure they didn't travel long today, no matter Eowyn's eagerness to get to Gondor, and would stay in bed with Lisswyn, regardless of his own restlessness.

Even as he made the decision and started down toward her, her expression changed to puzzlement and he turned, followed her gaze. Andric stood off to the side of the porch, staring at Eoden, a stricken look on his face. Before Eomer could call to him, though, the younger boy turned and darted away. "I'll go check on him," he called to Lisswyn before following him.

By his own choice, Andric had decided to remain in Edoras with the young colt he'd chosen from the herds the month before rather than go to Gondor, and the only explanation Eomer could find for the boy's behavior was that he'd just discovered he'd rather go with them, after all. But if so, it was easily resolved. They'd not actually left yet left, and weren't in such a hurry he couldn't quickly grab what he needed for the trip.

Andric wasn't in the paddock, so he turned to the stable. But when he saw the disconsolate figure in the stall, leaning against the young horse, Eomer hesitated. The slumped shoulders suggested more than just a change of heart over the trip. "Andric? What is it?"

"Sire." He rubbed at his face, turned to Eomer. "Please tell Eoden, Lisswyn and Brynwyn I said farewell. I can not."

"What? Why?" Thoroughly baffled, Eomer stepped into the stall, automatically holding out his hand for the colt to sniff, his gaze never leaving Andric.

Andric swallowed. "I just can not."

On decidedly shaky ground, Eomer cautiously said, "Very well," and started to turn. It felt wrong to leave, but he didn't know how to force the boy to explain what was going on, or even if it was wise. Was this about staying behind, or not?

"Please bring them back safely," came the whisper from behind him, and Eomer jerked back toward him, saw Andric was fighting tears. Obviously embarrassed, he turned around as if doing something for the colt, his back to Eomer.

"What?"

It took a long moment before the words came. "They went to Gondor, and didn't come back."

Confusion was quickly replaced with an aching compassion. "Your father and older brothers."

"I said good-bye, and never saw them again."

Even knowing what was bothering the boy, Eomer didn't know how to help him. He wanted to leave him his pride, and yet… He walked closer, rested his hand on Andric's shoulder."They will come home. I promise."

Andric took a shuddering breath and nodded, his head resting against the side of the colt.

"Are you certain you would not like to come to Gondor with us? It is not too late. Breghelm will care for Brightstar."

Andric turned, looked up at him, and for just a moment, he saw something, a glint of wistfulness in the boy's eyes. But then he shook his head and glanced over his shoulder at the colt, which butted him with his head. "No, sire," he said, turning back to Eomer. "I would like to go," he admitted. "But Brightstar needs me. He is very young. And with Eoden gone, Breghelm will need me, as well."

Eomer's throat wanted to close, and he had to clear it before he could speak. "Though Lisswyn and I would both enjoy having you with us, I am very proud of you, Andric, for wanting to stay. For thinking of Breghelm."

Shy wonder came into Andric's eyes at the praise, and he ducked his head. Eomer squeezed his shoulder, and then turned to leave.

"Please come home."

It was the barest of whispers, possibly not really meant for his ears, but Eomer turned, met the boy's gaze with a steady one of his own. "I swear to you, Andric. We will all come home."

He walked out of the stables, his heart aching for the boy. Then his own fears came back to him, and he scowled. That was the problem. They weren't all coming back.

Lisswyn's anxiety grew as she watched Eomer walk back to them from the stables, his expression the grim one they'd seen so much of recently. Had something happened to Andric's colt? If so, the boy would be crushed, and what could they then do for him, to comfort him? They couldn't delay the trip to Gondor.

The worry and weariness she couldn't seem to shake nearly overwhelmed her, and she forced herself to stand straighter, ever aware of the eyes on her.

Eomer motioned to Eoden and Breghelm to follow him as he came to her, and when they'd reached her side, he softly reported his conversation with Andric.

Eoden looked stricken, and turned, as if to go to his brother before stopping and looking at Eomer, a misery on his face. "Sire?"

Eomer stared at the ground for a moment, a frown on his face, before looking at the boy. "I don't know what's best, Eoden. You may certainly stay here with him, if you desire to do so and believe it will comfort him. Firefoot and I would miss you," and for the first time in a many days, Lisswyn caught the hint of smile around his lips, "but we would survive."

"Twouldn't help him," Breghelm said flatly. "It would merely shame him, if Eoden stayed with him rather than doing his duty at your side. The best you can do for him is to return home." His voice softening, he glanced at Eomer before looking back at Eoden. "You cannot always be with him, son. That is not the way of the world. He'll be fine. I will keep him distracted with the colt."

"And so you have ever done," Eomer murmured.

Breghelm ducked his head in what passed for a bow from him, then turned once again to Eoden. "Look after the horses in your charge. I'll look after your brother." With that, he turned and moved quickly toward the stables.

"He did the same for you, didn't he?" Eoden asked. At Eomer's nod, he said simply, "Then Andric will be fine. I'll get Firefoot for you." With his confidence in his priorities apparently restored, he hurried away, toward where Eomer's mount stood, pawing impatiently.

Lisswyn smiled at Eomer. "Maegwen would be proud of them."

His voice a bit rough, Eomer said, "And she would be right to be so. Shall I help you mount, my lady?"

Glad that for a time, at least, he seemed distracted from his dark mood, she smiled again, and held out her hand. "You may, my lord."

After assisting her, he mounted, and with a shout, they started down the road through the city. They had five carts with them: one with Eowyn's belongings, one that was primarily their supplies for the trip, and three that served as transports for the youngest and eldest among them. There were many who'd wished to see The White Lady wed, and not all of them were of an age and well-being to ride. Lisswyn rode next to the cart with Brynwyn, Hilde, and the children of Ceolwyn and Eothain; Ceolwyn rode on the other side. Eowyn, in high spirits, changed her position frequently, riding first near the carts, then circling around to greet members of Eomer's guard she knew particularly well.

As that first day passed, Lisswyn watched Eomer carefully, and saw he was trying to keep his feelings from affecting the rest of the traveling party. He also changed his position often, riding for a while next to Eothain, apparently in discussion about the road and their journey, then greeting all the men of his guard individually. But he and Eowyn never seemed to be near one another, which troubled Lisswyn greatly.

He did not ignore Lisswyn, riding for a while beside her as well, but he spoke little, appearing lost in his own thoughts. From the cart, Brynwyn looked at him unhappily, and did not ask for a ride on Firefoot.

They did not hurry, and took several breaks so that those unused to riding for such long periods of time could stretch their legs and rest, and they stopped for the day while it was still light.

Off the road, across a small stream and behind a copse of trees, they made camp. Lisswyn dismounted with a sigh, grateful to be out of the saddle for a while, then wearily turned to begin caring for Dancer. As she did, she noticed Eomer and Eoden a short distance away. Eomer motioned toward her, and the boy nodded before jogging over to her.

"I'll care for her, Lisswyn," he said. "You look very tired."

Tired didn't begin to cover it, and she nodded her thanks before turning to where Ceolwyn was supervising the children as they tumbled about on a grassy area beneath a tall tree.

She sighed as she collapsed next to the other woman. "I know I should walk around a bit, and would be less stiff later for having done so, but right now, all I want is to stretch out on something that isn't moving!"

Ceolwyn grinned at her. "I know. It is always the same at the beginning of a journey." She leaned forward and rubbed her lower back. "At least I know I can count on a back rub from Eothain later!"

Eomer had sometimes done the same for her after a long ride, and Lisswyn shivered with longing in spite of her exhaustion. Such encounters nearly always led to their making love, something they'd not done for a number of days now. She knew, _knew_, his love and desire for her had not lessened, and that change, too, was due to his mood over Eowyn's departure. But that didn't make the lack easier to tolerate.

Silence fell between them as they watched Brynwyn and Jocosa playing with the toddler, Hengest. Denulf, still not quite a year old, slept on a blanket next to Ceolwyn.

Her voice hesitant, the other woman finally broke the quiet. "Forgive me for asking, but is the king well?"

Lisswyn didn't answer right away. Though she longed to pour out her concerns to Ceolwyn, even with close friends she knew she had to be careful of what she said. "He will be," she said. She hoped. Managing a wry smile, she added, "he is not handling Eowyn's departure very well."

Understanding lightened Ceolwyn's face, and she let out a soft laugh. "Is that what it is? I should have guessed. My father liked Eothain very much, but he stomped around our house for several weeks before we were wed, refusing to speak to anyone."

Heartened by the story, Lisswyn smiled in response. She could only hope she'd spoken in truth, and that whatever was bothering him was nothing more than what it appeared. But she was certain it was more than that. He was having nightmares, at least based on the noises he sometimes made. But what did that have to do with Eowyn's departure? What if they were wrong? Was it something other than his sister's wedding?

Suddenly unbearably tired, Lisswyn brought her legs up and rested her head on her knees.


	2. Chapter 2

The tents were pitched and the fire lit, and an air of merriment settled over the camp. Eomer stood off to the side, watching his people settle in for the evening. Dusk was falling, and several of the women were laughing as they cooked the evening meal over the fire, and based on the jesting he could hear coming from some of his men loitering near by, the laughter had to do with expectations that the fare would be far more edible than what the men were used to while on the trail. Others of his men were stationed out by the road and around the perimeter, of course, but none of them expected problems. Heartened by the laughter, he sighed, and stretched. Perhaps his efforts not to allow his mood to affect others were a success, after all. If only those efforts could have the same results for him.

Near the fire, Eowyn laughed at something one of the other women said. Watching, Eomer smiled in spite of himself. But then, even as he watched, her image changed and was replaced by the one ever in his mind these days – that of her lifeless body on the battlefield. As always, grief rose in response, swiftly followed by anger that he could not force himself to concentrate on the truth: that she went to Gondor in joy where she would be loved and well-cherished.

Blocking the vision from his mind, he distracted himself by hunting for Lisswyn. As weak as it seemed to him, he was lonely for her. But he could not bring himself to tell her of his fears, or to confess to the memories that seemed bent on driving him mad. How could he, when it was so foolish? But to be with her and pretend all was well…he'd not managed that, either.

Still, the yearning for her quiet presence was there, and he frowned as he realized that while he could see Ceolwyn, Brynwyn and Jocosa now talking with his sister, he did not see Lisswyn. Starting forward, he nearly bumped into Hilde, who was making her way toward the fire. "Hilde, where is Lisswyn?"

"She has already retired to your tent, my lord." The older woman motioned. "She is very tired." As an afterthought, she said, "Brynwyn and Jocosa are sleeping in the Lady Eowyn's tent tonight."

Eomer nodded, and turned toward their tent, a frown on his face. Lisswyn had appeared tired that day, every time he'd looked at her. But to go to bed before the meal? Was she ill? Would she say something if she were? Perhaps not, if she feared it would slow their trip to Gondor. But surely she would have then chosen to ride in one of the carts? Concerned, he started toward the tent, noting candlelight inside as he did so. She must still be awake.

The candle went out even as he pulled the cloth back and stepped inside, but it the torch not far from the tent's entrance gave light enough for him to see the figure stretched out on the furs. "Lisswyn?" he called softly.

With an obvious effort, she rolled over and sat up, her head dropping into her hand. "Am I needed at the fire?"

"No, it's nothing like that. Are you well?"

On a sigh, she laid back, but was now turned toward him, so he could see her face in the shadows. "I'm fine. The ride took more out of me than I'd hoped." The humor in her tone sounded forced.

He had planned to be present by the fire, at the meal. To make another effort to prove to his people – and his sister – that was all was well. But suddenly he wanted nothing more than a time of peace with his lady. His own sleepless nights were catching up with him.

He bent and removed his boots, then pulled off his tunic. Crossing to the furs, he settled next to her, and then said, "Perhaps a back rub will help?"

Despite her weariness, she indicated her willingness in the speed in which she rolled over, and a smile tugged at his lips at her enthusiasm. Pulling the covers back, he began with her shoulders, gradually working his way down. She sighed in contentment, and Eomer felt some of his own tension drain away.

He reached her lower back, and at first, clearly relaxed, she continued to make soft noises of approval. But gradually, tension came back, and she trembled. Eomer, understanding completely, nearly groaned himself as competing desires made themselves known. They both needed to sleep.

She pulled away slightly and shifted to her side, this time facing away from him. "Thank you. That helped." Her voice was quiet, as if she was trying to make herself sound sleepy. But he didn't quite believe it.

He stood, pulled off his leggings, then stretched out next to her before pulling her against him. He knew when she felt the desire he couldn't hide.

She went still, and then twined her fingers with his. Confusion evident in her voice, she said, "Eomer, will you not tell me what's wrong?"

The plea in her voice moved him, but he couldn't answer, he didn't know how. Instead, he pulled her closer, leaned down and kissed her. Desperate to love her, but not to talk, he poured everything he was feeling into the kiss.

He'd been afraid she'd resist him, would try and demand he explain things for which he had no words. But her love and knowledge of him was deeper than that, apparently. She wrapped her arms around him and gave into what was between them.

In silence, he loved her.

* * *

Instinctively, Lisswyn knew the night was far gone when she awoke. Eomer was holding her so close to him she could barely breathe. She shifted carefully until his arms relaxed a bit, and then, as she'd done earlier, she entwined her fingers with his. He seemed deeply asleep, for which she was grateful.

He'd needed her tonight. Not just to make love, but to be with her, even though he couldn't, or wouldn't, tell her what was wrong. She'd believed she was helping him by trying to get him to talk to her about what was disturbing him. But now she rather thought that not only had that not helped, it had made things worse. It had made him hesitate to be with her, when he plainly wanted her company. From now on, then, she'd make a point of not asking.

It hurt. She wanted to know, wanted to believe she could help if she did know what was wrong. But if all she could do was to let him be with her in peace, she would give him that.

She rolled over and wrapped her arms around him, willing the dreams – whatever they were – to stay away. And then in silence, kept watch over him until day lightened the interior of the tent and he stirred against her.

* * *

Lisswyn sighed and stretched in the saddle. Although not as stiff and sore as she's been on the first day of the journey, she was still more tired than she'd expected to be. Apparently, riding for at least a short period of time nearly every day – as she'd been doing as often as possible before the trip – didn't do much to prepare you for entire days in the saddle.

They were six days into the trip, but it felt like they'd been traveling for weeks. It wasn't unpleasant, exactly, particularly early in the morning when everything appeared so fresh and new, or in the evenings, when the sun set behind the mountains. And she thought it would be more interesting, yet, when the scenery changed, as it surely would before they reached Minas Tirith.

But much of the time just felt dull and plodding. She'd kept to her decision not to question Eomer about what was wrong, and had been rewarded for that, as he'd increasingly chosen to ride next to her rather than elsewhere in the group. But his silence wore on her, and she didn't know what to say to him in the absence of asking about what was bothering him. With others in the group, his effort to hide his mood was apparently succeeding, and the party was merry more often than not.

Eowyn, of course, knew that things weren't as he was trying to make them appear and frequently shot him troubled glances, but she'd apparently decided she wasn't going to allow Eomer's grimness to affect her. But still others in their large party were simply too sensitive to his moods not to be affected. She glanced over at toward the cart on her left, where Brynwyn rode with Ceolwyn's children and Hilde. Her sister's gaze was fixed on Eomer, currently riding toward the back of the group, a sad expression on her face.

She'd still not asked for a ride on Firefoot, and to Lisswyn's way of thinking, that indicated more clearly than anything else just how bad things were. They'd both slept well the night they'd made love, but the last two nights, he'd been restless again, though at least he was spending more time trying to sleep. And having his presence with her in their tent was helping her to sleep – even if he was still refusing to tell her what was wrong.

Shifting again, she looked up, trying to gauge how much longer they'd ride before stopping for the evening. With the carts, and so many people on horseback who weren't used to spending so many hours in the saddle, they were keeping the days short, Eomer having dryly noted that the wedding would wait for their arrival.

Should she try again to get him to discuss what was troubling him? She knew men often didn't like to talk, but shouldn't she keep trying, anyway? Loving him as she did, she couldn't see how she could do anything else. In the meanwhile, desperate for a distraction from her exhaustion and discomfort, she glanced to her right, where Brecka rode silently beside her.

The young woman had always been quiet, and that had only increased after the death of her family, especially her twin sister, the previous fall. Recently, though, she'd started opening up some, and Lisswyn had rather thought it was due to her relationship with Thedhelm. But the two of them hadn't been together much on the trip, and Brecka had once again retreated to silence. Not unlike Eomer, really, but Lisswyn hoped she might have more success in getting to the root of the young woman's distress. Brecka had been filling the position of maid/attendant for Lisswyn since the wedding, and as a result, they'd grown closer than even when they'd lived together in the caves.

"Will you not tell me what's troubling you?" she asked softly.

Brecka looked over at her, and then looked down at the reins in her hand. A long moment passed before she spoke. "Thedhelm and I are no longer courting," she finally said baldly.

Dismayed, Lisswyn could only stare at her. The young man had seemed devoted to Brecka, and she to him. In fact, Lisswyn had been expecting news of their betrothal to come at any time. "What happened?"

In a flat voice, Brecka said, "His uncle is chieftain of one of the larger eoreds in the Westfold. Thedhelm's cousin, the man's only son, died in the war, and he desires Thedhelm to take up his position as second, and lead in the man's stead some day. His mother very much wants him to agree. It is a great honor."

"And they do not approve of you?" Lisswyn's temper stirred.

Brecka looked over at her. "On the contrary," said somewhat dryly. "Even having never met me, his mother sees great prestige in having her son wed a member of the king's household."

Thoroughly puzzled, Lisswyn said, 'Then what is the problem?" She would miss the young woman desperately and rather thought Eomer and Eothain would both miss Thedhelm. But none of them would offer a barrier to the young couple

On pretense of guiding the mare she rode, Brecka looked away, but not before Lisswyn had seen shame settle on her face. "I can not live there," she muttered.

"What?"

Her shoulders hunched, the other woman appeared to struggle with her answer before she finally said again, "I can not live there." She finally looked up, misery on her face. "Lisswyn, their eored is based not far from where our village was. Indeed, since our eored fell, Thedhelm's uncle now guards and oversees the entire region." Tears came into her voice as she continued. "I have managed to make a life for myself without my twin because there are no reminders of her in Edoras. I always think of her, but there are not the constant reminders there would be if I were to dwell again in the Westfold.

"In addition, Thedhelm would often be away from home. I would be there, alone, with no one I knew, nothing but memories of the night the wildmen burned the village, or what I know she and my family suffered at the hands of the orcs." She shuddered. "I wake with nightmares as it is. How can I live there again, and be all alone? At least in Edoras, I have you, and Hilde, and the others."

Her voice broke and she wiped her face. "I know I am a coward. I know that. But even now, all these months later, it's nearly unbearable to me that she's gone, that she suffered so. I can not face living there. I simply can not, no matter how weak it makes me, or how it shames me."

"Brecka," Lisswyn's voice was sharp. "You are no coward. You have built a new life for yourself in Edoras without your family, without your sister. In the attack at the caves, you offered your life so that others would have a chance at life. I will not hear you call yourself weak for being unable to live with such constant reminders of your losses." She thought of Maegwen and said, "I'm not sure I could live there now."

Her shoulders slumped, Brecka nodded but didn't respond. After a moment, Lisswyn asked, "Have you told Thedhelm this? Does he know the reason you will not go to the Westfold?"

"Yes. He immediately said he would refuse his uncle's offer. But I do not wish to be the source of strife between him and his family. His mother very much wishes her son to be chieftain of the eored some day."

"As if there were no honor in being in the King's guard," Lisswyn muttered.

For just a moment, something approaching a smile touched Brecka's face, then fled, and she sighed. "There is honor in it. But according to his mother, there is greater honor in being a former member of the king's guard who now leads an eored. Eothain has a second already, and there are other men in the guard who rank much higher than Thedhelm, even if something should happen to Ceorl. If we had already wed, I think it would be easier for him to refuse them. The fact that we are unable to do so only adds to the reasons they give for why we should leave Edoras."

Lisswyn frowned. "What do you mean? Why can't you wed?"

Brecka looked uncomfortable. "Since the attack on Edoras, there are no cottages available, and Thedhelm does not rank high enough for us to be given land for us to build one of our own."

Momentarily speechless, Lisswyn just stared at her. "You've not wed before now due to the lack of a cottage, and you didn't tell me?"

"Thedhelm did not want to be accused of trading on our relationship," she said, her shoulders hunched again.

Now her temper was directed at Brecka, but Lisswyn bit it back. "You don't think that the fact that not only is he in the king's guard but that you're serving as my attendant makes it reasonable that the King would provide a place for you to live?"

"We have places to live."

"You in the hall, and he in the common barracks! Brecka, the Riddermark needs families, needs children. We need more of our surviving young people to wed and provide for our future! The only reason no additional cottages have been built yet is because the need hasn't been made known to Eomer." But it would be before the day was out.

"Oh." Brecka ducked her head again. "Still, there are others in the guard who are higher placed than Thedhelm."

"Beyond the fact that there are a number of lots vacant in Edoras since the fires, none of the other members of the guard wish to wed my attendant!"

At her tone, Brecka gave her a brief grin before it once more faltered. "He should still go to the Westfold. You speak of families, and the stability the Mark needs as we recover from the war. I would not wish to come between him and his mother."

"What does Thedhelm wish?"

She was slow to answer. "He wishes to wed me and stay in Edoras, regardless of his family. But I fear he will regret that some day. He still has his mother," she said sadly. "He should cherish her."

Understanding the other woman was thinking of her own mother, Lisswyn tread carefully. "Yes, but not at the cost of his future. Will he be happy there, without you? And what of his duty to the King? Has he discussed this with Eothain?"

"No," Brecka said on a sigh, "because we've still been arguing over it. I finally managed to convince him the night before we left that I would not wed him, even if he stays in Edoras."

"In hopes that would force him to go?" At Brecka's nod, Lisswyn turned her face so the other woman wouldn't see her smile. If Thedhelm was half the man Eomer believed him to be, he wouldn't leave Brecka regardless.

"Let me discuss the matter of the cottage with Eomer," she said, then added, "and not just for you and Thedhelm. I take it there are others in the guard in the same situation?"

Brecka nodded. "And not just in the King's guard, but also the city guard, under Elfhelm."

Lisswyn sighed. How had they missed this? The Gondorians had helped rebuild many of the homes lost to the orcs prior to her and Eomer's wedding, but some of the buildings burned had been standing empty before the attack, due to losses in the war, and those had not been viewed as a priority to rebuild. It was obviously time to do so. Maybe realizing that their people were truly starting to recover from the war – and what was a better indication of that than young couples wishing to wed and start families? – would help Eomer, as well.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: As promised, the remaining three chapters. I very much hope they don't disappoint, particularly those of you who've been patiently waiting for so long!

At least two additional stories come to mind as a natural follow-up to this. Although I'm still working on the particulars (and have not yet started work on either) I will do my best to get them out in shorter period of time than this took -- assuming, that is, that my life remains even marginally free of fire, flood and famine!

* * *

Lisswyn waited until after the evening meal to approach Eomer. It had become somewhat customary for a time of singing and storytelling to take place at the fire after the meal was finished, while others who wished to retire early could do so. More than once, she and Eomer had slipped away for a short walk before going to their tent, so when she held out her hand and said, "Walk with me," he did so.

In a companionable silence, they walked a bit away from the fire, into the nearby trees, and began circling the camp, though still within the ring of ever-watchful guards. It was a nice evening, not yet too warm despite their ever-southward movement, and as they walked, Lisswyn gradually relaxed, aware that while she was still more tired than it seemed she should be, she was no longer as sore as she'd been during the first days on the road. Eomer seemed relaxed as well, which seemed to bode well. He would know what to do for Brecka and Thedhelm.

"There is something I must discuss with you," she began softly, only to have her thoughts as well as her mood shattered when he tensed. He didn't quite pull away from her, but may as well have done so, given his stiffness. Understanding that he thought she was going to plague him with questions about whatever had been bothering him for so long didn't reduce her own response in the least.

Jerking her hand away, she stepped in front of him and slapped a hand on his chest to make sure she had his full attention. Trying desperately to remember through her temper to keep her voice pitched low, she bit out, "My lord, contrary to what you seem to think in your self-absorbed moods these days, there are matters in the Riddermark beyond whatever it is that is causing your black mood." In spite of her efforts, her voice broke, and she took a moment to steady herself before she went on more quietly. "I am still your queen, and there are matters I've been made privy to which I believe you should know. When it suits you to have such a conversation, please find me. Rest assured that I will not plague you with questions about that which you feel I am not worthy to know."

Aware that he was gaping at her, Lisswyn turned with as much dignity as she could manage and went to their tent. Where had that come from? Not only the angry outburst, but the sarcasm at the end? She wasn't given to either, particularly with Eomer. So concerned had she been for him, she'd not even fully realized to degree to which he was hurting her with the distance he was placing between them. But then, perhaps that was it – it was one thing for there to be something he didn't wish to discuss with her, and something altogether different when she could no longer discuss anything with him due to his fear she'd broach the unbroachable topic.

Scowling, and no longer wondering about her own response, she shoved the tent flap aside and entered, then just stood there, lost, only vaguely aware she was weeping.

He followed her, of course. She'd known that he would – if not for her sake, then to find out what was wrong in the Mark that she was aware of and he wasn't. She was still standing in the middle of the tent when she heard the rustle of the flap and felt the slight breeze.

Quickly wiping her cheeks, she turned. "Forgive me, my—"

"Don't. Don't say it. Don't call me that, certainly not when we're alone." Unable to see him clearly in the shadows of the tent, his voice still struck her as dangerously quiet.

The knot in her stomach loosened a bit. "Fine. Eomer." She sighed, and wiped her cheeks again. "I'm sorry I spoke thus to you. But I do not know what else to do. I've tried not to plague you concerning whatever it is that's troubling you so, and yet even still you stiffened when I approached you about another matter – such is your trust in me, apparently," she ended on a bitter note. "And yet, I must bring such things to your attention – or would you have me refer people to Eothain, perhaps?" She winced as the sarcasm once again got the best of her.

"Of course not." He brought his hand up, pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's not a matter of trust. I trust you as none other." Turning, he bent and lifted a candle from near the door flap, and stepped outside to light it on a torch before returning and pulling the flap firmly closed behind him. Staring at her in the fragile light of the candle for a moment before he set it on the floor he motioned to her. "Tell me first of the matter concerning the Riddermark."

The 'first' sounded promising. Why did it make her feel so guilty? Pushing that thought away she told him of her conversation with Brecka that afternoon.

When she'd finished, he simply stared at her for a long moment as if she'd been speaking in a strange tongue.

"There are young people in Edoras – men in my guard – who wish to wed and haven't done so because there's no place for them to live, when we have empty lots in Edoras?"

At her nod, he shoved his hands through his hair and growled something she suspected was a swear word. "Why didn't they say something to Eothain, if not to me? He would surely know the land is there – we've only to build on it. Something which would have been easier to do earlier in the spring," he muttered.

"I do not know the answer to that. In Thedhelm's case, I'd say it's because he supposes there are men higher than him who'd receive housing first in any case. But as to why none of them have asked Eothain…" she shook her head.

He stared down at the candle for a long moment in silence. "By the time we return from Edoras, the planting will be complete and all the foals born. We can begin building cots then, with a view towards autumn weddings, after the harvest."

"And what of Thedhelm and Brecka's other problem?" she asked softly. Did he value Thedhelm as much as she thought he did?

He looked at her thoughtfully. "He is correct that he is not a candidate to be Eothain's second – that position is adequately filled, and there are others ahead of him even there. But Elfhelm's second died in the battle last fall, and he has been reluctant to name someone else. I believe he quite likes Thedhelm, though. Will second to the guard of the city of Edoras be enough for Thedhelm's mother, do you think?"

Lisswyn couldn't help herself. She launched herself at him, laughing, and threw her arms around him. "It is a very great honor…my lord," she added somewhat mischievously.

He caught her on a muffled laugh and held her close to him for a long moment before gently setting her back on the floor, his arms still around her, his forehead resting against her. They stood like that for a while before he slowly said, "about the other matter…it is not a matter of trust," he said in nearly a whisper. "I just do not know how to talk about it."

Sensing it was easier with her not looking at him, she rubbed her face against his chest for a moment, then said, 'tell me what you dream."

He went still, then brought his hand up, stroked her hair. On a sigh, he said, "I find my sister as she was on the Pelennor, lifeless. Over and over again, I relive that moment of madness and horror. There's no Aragorn to heal her, no miracle of a returned king, just Eowyn…cold and still."

At the ragged pain in his voice, her heart broke for him, and Lisswyn reached up, pulled his head down to press her face against his.

He allowed the comfort, but then continued, "and even though I know she goes to a man who loves her beyond reason, I cannot think of her in Gondor, happy and whole, but only as she was when I found on her on that cursed field. It shames me."

Startled, she pulled away, looked at him. Wished for more candles. "Why?"

"Because there _was_ a returned king. Because Aragorn had the power to heal her, and did, where others…" he stepped away, turned his back on her. "such as Brecka, who at least has a reason for the fears and memories she cannot escape, and Andric, who lost everyone but Eoden, most of them in that same battle, and yet still has the courage not to ask his brother to stay with him…when I want nothing more than to beg Eowyn to stay in the Mark," he finished on a bitter note.

But he hadn't asked her to, and wouldn't. Why couldn't he see that distinction? "Eomer, for a period of time, Eowyn was the same as dead, was she not? Why the surprise then, that your heart remembers those moments and fears them?"

"She wasn't supposed to be there. She does not understand that when I say that, it is not about her battle skills. But there must be something to fight for, or what's the point? And she was my reason. I knew what we faced, knew it was hopeless, but courage must have a reason. So few understand that," he said wearily, more to himself than her. "She was mine. The belief that she was in the Mark, safe, and if we could just prevail…"

He turned back to her, a helpless look on his face. "We fought for the slightest chance, the barest fragment of hope that we might somehow win, that even if _we_ died, our women and children were safe, would rebuild the Mark. And there she was." His voice cracked. "Broken, lifeless, gone. What was the point of the battle? I'd failed her."

"No, Eomer!" She felt completely inadequate to discuss much about that battle, but one thing she was certain of. She reached for him, pulled his face down to hers. "I do not pretend wholly to understand the prophecy about the Witch-King and Eowyn's fate. But one thing I do know – you have never failed her. Never."

On a sigh, he shook his head before once more pulling her to him. She didn't know how long they stood like that. She was simply conscious of the relief of being in his arms, of knowing what the trouble was, even if she didn't know how to help him.

"You've tried discussing it with her?"

"It merely makes her angry. She says I'm remembering the wrong things. As if I have a choice when the dreams come," he ended bitterly.

"Perhaps when you see her in Gondor, cherished and happy, the dreams will stop."

He nodded his head, plainly not believing it.

* * *

Privately, Eomer had wondered if telling Lisswyn about the dreams would be sufficient to make a difference in their frequency and power, but it wasn't to be. It was almost with resignation that he found himself once more on the Pelennor, able to remind himself in the first few moments that it was only a nightmare. And then the shock and horror of finding Eowyn obliterated his awareness that it wasn't real, and he gave himself over to the despair.

How could she be here? _Why_ was she here? Had she been so desperate for death? Had he failed her so spectacularly? Was there nothing she'd felt worth living for, not their people, not …him?

As he fell to his knees, though, something else pushed into his awareness: a warm body moving against his, murmuring in his ear. "She lives, Eomer. She lives, and loves, and is happy. You didn't fail her. She lives."

Lisswyn. He came awake, aware that she had literally crawled on top of him, wrapped her arms around him, and was kissing him as she murmured to him. Saving him. Her touches were more comforting than suggestive, and he could tell from her sounds of distress she was afraid she didn't know how to help him. Unsure himself what was best, knowing only that he needed her, he pulled her mouth to his and kissed her, more than willing to substitute passion for the lingering sorrow of the dream, and beyond grateful that Lisswyn was equally willing.

* * *

When he next awoke, the time-sense that never failed him told him it was shortly before dawn. Lisswyn was wrapped completely around him, as if determined to keep the nightmares away by her presence alone. He brought his hand up, softly stroked her hair. Telling her of the dreams – his fears – hadn't been sufficient to keep them utterly at bay, but she had been able to pull him out of it when it came. Why hadn't he told her sooner? He could no longer remember, but he would not make the same mistake again.

Bending, he pressed a kiss on her forehead before untangling himself from her arms. She could sleep a while longer, but there were things he wished to do before they broke camp.


	4. Chapter 4

Lisswyn shifted in her saddle and stretched, wishing the afternoon would go by faster. The long days of riding were still tiring her more than she'd expected them to, but at least Eomer was doing better. Five days had passed since their conversation, and although he was continuing to dream nearly every night, his allowing her to comfort him had improved things for both of them. He was still quieter than normal but was overall more relaxed with others in the party, and seeing him so was definitely better for her. He was riding next to her now, his preferred location over the past few days.

"I spoke with Thedhelm this morning," he said softly.

"Oh?"

"I've been waiting for an opportunity where it would not look as if I singled him out due to your conversation with Brecka," he added. "It's not been easy, given they're always watching one another, while trying not to be _caught _watching one another."

Lisswyn smiled at his aggrieved tone, even while knowing he was secretly pleased. But before she could say as much, he continued speaking.

"I did not broach the possibility of him moving to the city guard, as I wish to discuss it first with Elfhelm. But I did question him concerning his intentions toward Brecka. He says he has no intention of leaving her, whether she will reconsider their courtship or not." He paused for a moment before adding, "such commitment only confirms my opinion of him."

Relieved, Lisswyn smiled. "So he's just going to wait for her to realize he's not leaving, regardless?"

"That seems to be his plan. He did think having a cottage they could move to would help him press his suit with her."

"She loves him very much," Lisswyn said thoughtfully. "She only needs to be convinced that her inability to live in the Westfold is not a liability to him."

He nodded. "Unless I'm very much mistaken, Elfhelm will help with that. He has a soft spot for Brecka, as well, does he not?"

Unsurprised that Eomer had caught that, as _he_ had a definite soft spot for the young woman due to their shared experience in the caves, she said, 'I would say so, yes."

"Eothain believes Elfhelm will quite like the idea of Thedhelm moving to the city guard."

"Good. It hurts me to see her so sad when she'd been starting not to be."

He nodded, and they rode in silence for a while, until a small voice said, 'Eomer-King?"

They both looked over and saw Brynwyn watching them from the cart, a hesitant look on her face.

"Yes, Brynwyn?" he asked.

"May I ride with you on Firefoot sometime?"

Even as he nodded, Lisswyn saw regret flash into his eyes as he realized it was the first time he'd been asked that question in many days. "Of course." He maneuvered over to the cart and lifted Brynwyn up in front of him. As he turned to move them toward an open area for a run, he shared a smile with Lisswyn over the little girl's excitement.

Relieved for all of them, Lisswyn glanced over and saw Eowyn relax as she noted Eomer and Brynwyn laughing about something as they prepared to gallop, and she wasn't alone in that. It was as if the entire party accepted that things were truly back to normal for the king. They weren't – he'd wept in her arms the night before upon waking from the dream – but no one else needed to know that.

Her thoughts were interrupted by someone else moving up to ride next to her. Looking over, she saw Mylla, the healer. The woman studied her for a moment. "Forgive me for asking, my lady, but are you quite well?"

Unsure how to respond, Lisswyn stared at her blankly for a moment. She'd really hoped no one had noticed how the journey was affecting her, though she should probably have expected Mylla to do so. "I'm fine," she finally said quietly. "Riding for so many hours a day is proving to be more of a challenge than I expected it to be."

"I see."

Not wanting to linger on the topic lest others hear and become concerned, she broke her own rule about discussing Eomer. "Although he is pleased by his sister's marriage, the thought of her being so far away has been difficult for the king, resulting in restless nights for both of us."

"I see," said Mylla again. And then, completely ignoring Lisswyn's attempt to distract her, she asked, 'Have you experienced any stomach upset, my lady? Particularly in the morning?"

Momentarily struck dumb by the question, Lisswyn could only stare at the other woman in silence before looking down at her stomach. When her gaze met Mylla's gaze again, she saw both humor and concern there. "No," she finally said. "No. But my mother didn't have the morning illness when she was carrying Brynwyn, either. I just thought it was the journey wearing on me." She pressed a hand against her stomach, her heart beating much faster in hope that a child was growing there. "Still…I'm late for my monthly cycle." Her laugh was wondering and soft. "How could I have missed seeing the very thing for which I've been hoping?"

Mylla smiled. "As you said, you've been much distracted by preparations for the journey and your concerns over the king. It's understandable that you might have missed the early signs."

Still delighted, Lisswyn laughed again before noticing glances from those around them and going quiet. No one else must know until she'd found the right time and place to tell Eomer. Then a new thought came to her and concerned, she turned back to Mylla, and quietly asked, 'The journey will not endanger the babe, will it?"

Mylla's reply was slow in coming, and her expression was a bit troubled now. "Normally, I'd say, 'no,' and it's encouraging that you're not experiencing anything but exhaustion. But your mother had difficulties carrying to term, did she not?"

Refusing to dwell on the memory of the day her mother had died, Lisswyn nodded. "She died in childbirth." She swallowed, and then added, "but she was much smaller than I am, which I believe might make a difference?"

Mylla nodded. "That is very possible. You are built more like your father's side of the family, then? Not overly large for a woman, of course, but…"

"Yes."

"Did he have any sisters?"

"Yes, and my aunt had five children, with no losses."

"That's very hopeful, I'd say." Mylla fell silent again. "If we can manage it without alarming anyone, I'd like to examine you after we stop for the evening."

Still thinking about the best way to tell Eomer, Lisswyn nodded. "Of course."

Although yet weary, the afternoon did seem to go by more quickly, now that Lisswyn had such pleasant thoughts to ponder, but by the time they stopped, not even the anticipation of seeing the look on Eomer's face when she told him he was to be a father could assist her in pretending she was other than completely exhausted. She brought Dancer to a stop, dismounted, and felt her legs give out as the world tilted around her.

To her relief, she never completely lost awareness of what was going on. Too weak to stand, though, she slumped to the ground next to Dancer, grateful the mare was too steady in temperament – and too well trained – to react to her rider doing such a thing. Before she could decide what to do next, she sensed someone kneeling next to her.

Mylla, who'd still been riding near her, said softly, "Lisswyn, are you experiencing any sharp pain?"

Although her voice was calm, her use of Lisswyn's name rather than title showed her alarm. Lisswyn shook her head. "No, nothing like that. I'm just feeling very weak."

"Lisswyn!" Eomer plowed toward her through the gathering crowd with no pretense of calm. "Mylla, what's wrong?"

"I'm fine, Eomer. Just tired." Wishing her voice didn't sound weak, she reached up to touch his cheek.

"Will you assist us to your tent, my lord? I believe we can set your mind to ease quite quickly, once there." said Mylla.

He gave her a sharp look, but nodded before reaching down to scoop Lisswyn into his arms.

Confused, Lisswyn asked, "But we've only just stopped – how can the tents be up already?" Had she lost more time than she'd thought?

Shifting her to make it easier for her head to rest on his shoulder, he said, "I sent men ahead with the tents and to start the fire. I know we've traveled farther today than on other days."

Hearing the worry in his tone, she once again touched his cheek. "I'm fine, Eomer."

He didn't respond, and she sighed. This wasn't an auspicious start to her pregnancy.

Mylla followed them into the tent, watching while Eomer gently laid her on the pile of furs, then settled next to her. "My lord, while I examine the queen, why don't you go reassure the others that she is fine?"

"Because we don't know that she's fine!" he snapped, turning on the healer.

Aware he was close to truly losing his temper, Lisswyn sat up and reached for his hand. "Eomer, please look at me." Although still feeling very tired, the dizziness was passing and her voice was no longer quite so weak. When he turned to her, a scowl barely masked his panic. Given his current difficulties in seeing past nearly losing Eowyn in Gondor, if anything happened to her – or their child – on this journey, she doubted he'd recover. Holding his gaze even as she entwined their fingers, she said, "Although Mylla still needs to examine me, there's most likely nothing wrong with me that birthing your child in a few months won't cure."

He froze for a long moment, and then glanced down at her belly. When he looked back up, all the blood had drained from his face. "You're with child?" he whispered.

"We believe so. I've not been sick at all, just more tired than normal, and so busy I didn't realize my cycle was off until Mylla questioned me this afternoon. She was going to examine me when we stopped before I said anything to you."

He reached for her and pulled her onto his lap. Pressing his face into her hair, he said nothing for a long moment before looking over at the healer. "Is such weakness normal?"

"Each woman is different, my lord, as is each pregnancy, but it is not uncommon for women to experience dizziness or exhaustion, particularly in the first months."

"Should we return to Edoras?"

"No!" Lisswyn's reply was sharp. "We must see Eowyn wed!"

"We are now only a few days from Gondor, sire. My counsel would be to do what we can to make sure the queen gets more rest and is less wearied by the journey, but not to turn back now. After several weeks of rest in Gondor, we'll return in the same manner, slow and at a pace comfortable to her, and be home in plenty of time for your heir to be born in the Mark."

He scowled, clearly worried, and Lisswyn stroked his cheek. "I'm fine, Eomer. Truly. I'm not in any pain that would suggest a serious problem, and I'm rather grateful that I've not been ill so far. I'm just more tired than usual."

"Very well." He looked at Mylla. "What can we do to make the journey easier for her? Is it safe for her to ride?"

"Certainly, particularly on Dancer, who is very gentle and has an easy gait, though she can also take breaks in the cart if she feels it would help. But the cart can actually be bumpier and more wearying than riding."

He nodded. "What else do we need to do?"

"Shorter days of travel might be in order to give her a greater chance to rest, or stopping more frequently." Mylla glanced at Lisswyn before looking back at him. "Sire, the queen has some healer and midwife training herself. She will probably be quite able to tell us what she needs on any given day."

"Thank you for remembering I'm present," Lisswyn said, injecting humor into her tone.

Eomer's scowl came back. "I just wish to know how to best take care of you until we reach Gondor."

She leaned up and kissed him. "I know. But I'll be fine. I will not risk the child, Eomer. We will figure out the best way to make the journey as quickly as possible while also making it as safe as possible."

He leaned down and rested his chin on the top of her head. "Very well. I'll be happier when we're safely back in the Mark, though."

"I know. But think about how enjoyable it will be to return to Edoras with news of the babe!"

"My lord, if you could go reassure the others, I'll examine the queen and then we'll know if there's anything to be immediately alarmed about. If everything is as it should be, my recommendation would be for her to rest for a while now, eat something light and then sleep as long as she can tonight – even if it means a delayed start in the morning."

"Of course." Leaning down, he brushed Lisswyn's lips with a kiss, then smiled, humor finally lighting his eyes. "You do realize that finding out she's going to be an aunt is probably the only thing for which Eowyn would be willing to slow the trip to Gondor?"

They all laughed, and he stood to leave, pausing to touch Lisswyn's cheek again as he did so.

* * *

By the time they stopped for lunch the next day, Lisswyn thought it possible the heir to the throne of the Riddermark would be borne to a mad woman, due to Eomer's fussing and hovering. Standing quietly off to the side of the larger group with him, she said, "Eomer, there is absolutely no need to make camp here. I feel fine, and can easily ride for a while longer!"

"You look tired. There's no reason to risk you or the child when we still have plenty of time to complete our journey."

Lisswyn gave a half laugh at his tone and leaned against him, loving him in spite of her frustration. "If we don't go faster than this, the babe will not only be borne on the trail, he or she will grow to adulthood, wed and be expecting our grandchild before we arrive in Gondor for Eowyn's wedding!"

His arms came around her, and he sighed. "It frightened me when I saw you slumped on the ground next to Dancer yesterday."

She looked up at him, traced his mouth with her finger. "I know, and I'm sorry. I promise I will not let myself become so tired again. If I feel the least bit weary or dizzy, I'll let you know immediately. But I really wish to be off the trail and in Minas Tirith."

"I just thought another short day would really help you get your strength back." Guilt came into his eyes. "I know that worrying about me was contributing to your not getting enough sleep even before you started waking up to help me shake off my dreams."

Ah. Here it was. She'd known they'd get to this eventually. "It's true that I was worried. I love you. But it's easier now that you're letting me help you, Eomer. I got plenty of sleep last night, and feel fine. Truly."

"I didn't dream last night."

She smiled, a bit smugly. "Because I gave you something else to think about, I hope. Something happy?"

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Very happy – although I'll note you also gave me something else to worry about for the next few months!" He leaned down and kissed her. "Very well. We'll continue on the trail for a while longer. But we're still making camp early tonight. If you continue to do well, we'll extend the days as much as we are able. But you must tell me if you get tired."

"I will." She thought of something and reached up to pull his head down to whisper in his ear. "I have another idea, as well, my lord."

Nuzzling her cheek, he said, "Oh?"

"What if I ride with you on Firefoot when I get tired? That's not as bumpy as the cart, but requires less effort from me." The memory of being held close to him, falling asleep against his chest, on the trip from the caves to Edoras still thrilled her even so many months later.

He tightened his arms around her and pulled her closer to him. His voice husky, he said, "I believe Firefoot will approve of that." He kissed her forehead, and then added, a note of humor in his voice, 'But Brynwyn may be quite jealous!"


	5. Chapter 5

Lisswyn gave a contented sigh and shifted her position just a bit. She still believed she'd be fine riding the rest of the journey on Dancer, but it was hard to argue with Eomer's insistence that she spend at least part of every afternoon riding with him on Firefoot when she kept falling asleep every time she did so.

Then again, any excuse to rest against him, his arms securely around her, was hard to argue with.

"Awake, my love? Was your nap restful?"

Eomer's voice rumbled in her ear, and she smiled as she looked up at him. "I did. I dreamed we were back in Meduseld, after the baby is born, and I was rocking him."

"A boy child, was it?"

"Yes," she said firmly.

He laughed softly, and shifted to rest his hand on her belly. "That certain, are you?"

She nodded. "It would be simpler, so why not hope for that?"

His smile faded. "I've told you before that you will not overbear in an attempt to have a male heir. Although we've never had a ruling queen, the Mark has always been more open to such things than Gondor."

"I know. But a boy would just be simpler, so that's what I'm hoping for," she said stubbornly.

He laughed again, and rubbed his cheek against her hair. "Very well. A boy it is. Unless she's not," he added mischievously.

Lisswyn moved her hand so it rested on his, and they fell into a comfortable silence. They'd followed the pattern of her riding with Eomer in the afternoons for the past three days and were now within two or three days of their destination, and although she was looking forward to being there, to being off the road, spending so much time with Eomer had been an unexpected delight.

As too, was her continued lack of the morning illness. Mylla made a special tea for her each morning which she insisted would help prevent the sickness. Whether it was particularly effective for her, or whether she was just fortunate among women, Lisswyn didn't know. She only hoped the situation continued at least until they were safely back in Edoras.

Around her, she could hear the cheerful talk of people who were reaching the end of their journey, though she knew her condition was also contributing to the pleasant mood. By the time they'd made an official announcement the day after Mylla's diagnosis, most of their people had figured it out – due in no small part, Lisswyn thought, to Ceolwyn, who'd apparently guessed almost immediately.

And if anyone on the journey had been less than joyful about the news, being around Brynwyn would have cured them immediately. At the very least, her sister was as excited about the baby as Eomer and Lisswyn were, telling everyone repeatedly that she was going to be an aunt.

As the days went by with no ill effects from the journey, Eomer had relaxed as well, his mood happier than he'd been in weeks. He was still having the nightmares about Eowyn, but they were coming much less frequently, and seemed much less intense.

Lisswyn turned a bit to rub her cheek against Eomer's armor, more content than she could recall being in years. Thinking again about the day she'd give birth to the next king – or, very well, queen – of the Mark, she didn't notice at first one of the scouts who rode at the front of the group riding back toward them.

"Sire, a group of riders are visible from the top of the next hill."

Eomer tensed, but nodded in response. "It's most likely an escort sent by King Elessar. Lord Eothain has been notified? "

"Yes, sire. He's directing the guard to a more defensive position."

Lisswyn sat up a little straighter. "Regardless of who it is, we'd be better served by being on two mounts."

His mind obviously on the riders, he still looked at her in mock disappointment. "I can't think why," he grumbled, "but very well." Motioning to Eoden to bring her mare over, he pulled Firefoot to a halt, dismounted, and lifted her down and then onto Dancer.

As he remounted Firefoot, she saw him loosen his sword. In response to her look, he said softly, "Just in case it's not an escort."

Lisswyn nodded and swallowed against the fear of an attack. Surely nothing like that would occur so close to Minas Tirith?

As they rode to the top of the hill, Eowyn joined them, her posture clearly one of excitement rather than apprehension, and Lisswyn knew she was hoping not only for an escort, but also, perhaps, a private message from Faramir.

From this vantage, they could indeed see the riders even though the standard they bore was not yet distinct. Lisswyn saw Eomer relax, though, when they noted that while moving quickly, the speed of the group was not unduly rushed.

Even so, part of Eomer's guard had moved forward while the remaining riders circled tight around the women and carts.

They watched while the horsemen grew closer, Eomer apparently choosing to wait where they had a better view rather than going to meet them.

As the riders came close enough to identify, Lisswyn caught her breath in excitement and started to turn toward Eowyn, only to hear her sister-in-law give a delighted cry.

"Eomer! It's Faramir! It's his standard!" Tears of joy glinted in the other woman's eyes, even as she wore the widest smile Lisswyn had ever seen. Without waiting for a response from Eomer, she nudged her mount and started down the hill.

Pleased for the woman she thought of as a sister, Lisswyn turned to see a thoughtful smile on Eomer's face. "The messenger who came most recently from Minas Tirith with letters told me that Faramir – with Aragorn's full support – was scandalizing much of Gondor with his insistence that the wedding reflect traditions of the Mark as well," he said.

Ahead of them, they watched as Eowyn came off her horse and ran to meet Faramir, who lifted her up and swung her around in an embrace.

His smile deepening, Eomer added, "It seems as if one of the Gondorian traditions he did away with was that which insisted the bridegroom await his bride at the city gates and escort her in." He nudged Firefoot, and with Lisswyn following, they began making their way down the hill to where Eowyn, with Faramir's arm around her, was approaching them.

Faramir waited until Eomer had dismounted and helped Lisswyn to the ground before bowing deeply. "My Lord King and Lady Queen of the Riddermark," he said, "Gondor welcomes you and is honored by your presence."

Eomer dipped his head in acknowledgement of the formal greeting, and then moved forward to clasp the other man's forearms. "It is good to see you, Faramir."

"And you." He then turned his focus on Lisswyn. "You are well, my lady?"

Although she'd grown used to that inquiry during the past few days on the trail, the intensity behind the prince's query startled her, and she glanced at Eomer in puzzlement before answering. "I am well, my lord."

He stared at her for another long moment, and then dropped his head in acknowledgement before turning back to Eomer. Lowering his voice, he said softly enough that only the three of them could hear, "King Elessar has been following your journey in the palantir, and became concerned several days ago that perhaps the Queen had fallen ill."

A slow smile spread over Eomer's face. "And that is why he sent you out, to see if we needed assistance?"

Humor glinted in Faramir's eyes as he glanced from Eomer to Eowyn. "That was the official reason." The amusement faded, replaced with puzzlement, and he looked again at Lisswyn. "King Elessar saw you fall. You are certain all is well?"

Before Lisswyn could respond, Eomer reached over and caught her hand. Lifting it to his lips, he brushed a kiss across her knuckles before looking back at Faramir, his smile still in place. "The Queen is carrying my heir."

"Ah." Faramir bowed toward Lisswyn again, his smile now matching Eomer's. "That is good news, indeed, and may explain something Elessar said." His eyes twinkling, his glance took in all three of them. "While concerned, he rather cryptically said that whatever had caused the queen to fall might actually be a cause for rejoicing. He then suggested I and my men ride out to meet you, just in case – something we were more than willing to do, of course, for several reasons." He turned toward Eowyn, his gaze softening.

"And those reasons are not difficult to guess, my friend," Eomer said, amusement coloring his tone.

His fingers now entwined with Eowyn's, Faramir only smiled in response, then became serious again. "How far were you planning to go yet today?"

"We've been going more slowly to give Lisswyn plenty of time to rest. I thought to stop perhaps mid-afternoon."

Faramir nodded and looked back the way he'd come. "There is a likely spot not far from here. If you wish, I'll send my men back to set up camp."

Eomer glanced at her, but before he could ask, Lisswyn said firmly, "I'm feeling fine, and quite up to several more hours this afternoon."

Eomer squeezed her hand in response before turning back to Faramir. "My lady has spoken. We would be grateful for your men's assistance."

* * *

Waking from another pleasant dream of rocking her child – a boy child -- in Meduseld, Lisswyn yawned and rolled over, trying to determine how long she'd been asleep. It was dark in the tent, but the area next to her was cool. Eomer had not yet come to bed yet, then, though the sounds of the camp were muted.

As if in response to her thoughts, the flap suddenly opened and Eomer slipped through. Obviously trying to be quiet, he crossed to the pile of furs serving as a bed and began undressing.

"Do not fear disturbing me," she said softly. "I've just awakened."

"Ah." He stopped before removing his leggings. "Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?"

"I'm fine. But you can join me in our bed and tell me of Faramir and the news he brings from Gondor."

He slipped under the light quilt, and gave a soft laugh. "Oh, I can, can I?"

"I can not sleep all the time, Eomer!"

"I know. I'm jesting with you." He nuzzled her hair. "I didn't talk much with Faramir, though. Even at the fire, surrounded by his men and our party, he and Eowyn are rather preoccupied with one another."

To her relief, he sounded amused. But his tone was thoughtful, more somber when he continued. "She seems so happy. When I saw the look on her face when we first recognized his standard…"

"Surely you are not surprised by such? Do you not remember how the two of them were with each other when the Gondorians were in Edoras last fall?"

"I remember." He was silent for a long moment. "It's just…"

"For weeks now, when you look at Eowyn, all you see is what the dreams keep showing you, of her lifeless on the Pelennor," she said gently. "But that is not the sum of her life, Eomer."

"I know. Truly, I know. But the dreams have made it difficult to recall that, particularly when I think of her in Gondor."

"Does seeing them together help?"

He was quiet again, for so long she wondered if he'd reply at all. "Perhaps. He loves her very much."

On a sigh, he nuzzled her hair again, and she felt him relax toward sleep.

* * *

At dawn three mornings later, Eomer rode by himself through the remains of the Rammas Echor, the old boundary wall around the Pelennor Fields. Arriving just outside the perimeter late the afternoon before, he and Faramir had decided to camp for one more night, allowing for their formal arrival to occur in mid-morning, rather than evening.

Although primarily for political reasons, the decision suited him for personal reasons as well. Bringing Firefoot to a halt, he regarded the plain before him, seeing grass where once had been only mud, death and blood. Slowly, he nudged his horse forward, toward the mounds he could barely make out through the morning mist. Mounds that covered so many of his kinsmen.

Where were Eoden and Andric's father and brothers? He wished he knew, wished he could point out the mound to Eoden. Wished he had some way of honoring them more than with this simple pilgrimage.

And then he saw the flowers. Spring flowers, of a southern variety he was unfamiliar with, were planted around each mound, and something in his heart eased as he understood that the people of Gondor had their own ways of honoring the dead, of not forgetting his people who'd perished so far from home.

Slowly, he made his way to the area of the field that haunted his dreams, before once more bringing Firefoot to a halt. Dismounting, he walked over to where he judged he'd found Eowyn's body, then knelt.

Grass grew here, too, as if determined to obliterate all memory of the Witchking, and he reached out, touched it. Here, his uncle had died in valor, a final, personal defeat over Saruman and Wormtongue. And here his sister, with her terrifying courage, had fulfilled her destiny.

"I do not rest here, Eomer." Her soft words startled him and he spun around, surprised that Firefoot hadn't alerted him that they weren't alone. Eowyn stood there, her hair whipping around in the morning breeze, a distant look in her eyes.

He got to his feet, his voice rough when he responded. "I know. I know that."

She stared down at the ground, and he knew she, too, was remembering. "This was only part of my destiny."

Startled that her words so closely mirrored his thoughts, he gaped at her. She had a slight smile on her face when she spoke again. "It is not difficult to know what you're thinking, but can you not see me standing here now, at peace, about to wed a man who loves me – a good man – and put the memories to rest?"

Words clogged his throat, speech impossible. Instead, he turned, surveyed the field again. Allowed the memory of finding her body to come into his mind once more before deliberately replacing it with images of Aragorn healing her, and then of her with Faramir. Then he turned back to her. "I'm trying. It's just that I will miss you, so very much." Before she could speak, he continued. "But if I must lose you, I can think of no one I'd rather have you with than Faramir."

Now it was she who looked away, and when she turned back to him, tears were in her eyes. She walked over, leaned against him. "I'm going to miss you, too. But such is the way of things. I will know you are in Edoras, with Lisswyn, as you know I am safe with Faramir. And we will see each other as often as possible, will we not?"

"You may depend upon it," he said, his voice husky.

"Faramir has already promised me a trip to the Mark to meet your heir as soon as the roads are passable next winter."

Relief, and gratitude toward his brother-to-be shuddered through him. "Has he?" He wrapped his arms around her, pressed a kiss to her hair. And felt the grief and fear completely go. She was alive. She was loved by a good man, and treasured by two kingdoms. He could ask for nothing more for her.

They stood like that for a few moments longer, and then he said, "Come. We should be returning to the camp. We must prepare for your grand entrance into Minas Tirith."

She nodded, and started to pull away, then stopped, looked up at him. "You'll be fine from now on? With the thought of my being here?"

He glanced around the field again, saw only grass-covered monuments, felt only peace. "I'll be fine," he said.

That night, he dreamed again of the Pelennor, but saw only Eowyn, her face lit in joy as she rode next to Faramir toward the city that waited to greet her with exuberant cheers.


End file.
